When I was 8 years old, I would come home after school each day, make myself a vanilla milkshake and like every other kid in that era, plop in front of the television.

What I was really drawn in by were talk shows. I was captivated by the opportunity to hear about people’s lives and their personal struggles, brought out into the open. Unfortunately, when my father got home from work, storming into the house, everything changed. When he begin to beat my mom and brother, as he did all too often, I would simply sit closer and closer to the TV, trying to block it all out while waiting for the police and or paramedics. I had …